The con

"It couldn't be as bad as that, could it?"

"It's true that a feud can't hurt you too much, because the attendees will all be socially beneath the Beaudennes, and Beaudennes is far wealthier than even their social equals. But as far as your reputation is concerned, yes, it is that bad. I can teach you the general format of a veneration feast, but what you should do for your honorings...there's tens of thousands of possibilities. I would have to spend all my free time from now till the festival studying them."

"Uh, can't Philippa help me?"

"If Philippa hasn't been chosen as an attendee, then no, she can't even be present. It's only the family and the attendees. Once the food is served, there are not even servants there. You can add Philippa as an attendee, but that would be an insult to her."

"What? Why?"

"Saints help those in need, therefore so does the venerator. Philippa is your employee. Her being there implies she wasn't doing her job, or that she had some other terrible vice she needed help with."

"What? But wait, you wanted me to attend the prince's party..."

"It's less damning if you're not a direct employee. Your 'need' would have been your social inferiority itself, or contrition for your past actions if you wanted to add that in instead. The venerated saint would have been Saint Clemente, and the prince would have taken food from your plate and eaten it himself, thereby showing you are admirable and worthy of his regard, which would have been an excellent showing to the rest of the family. It was really very tasteful, but I see coming up with that was wasted work because you have instead chosen suicide by social gaffe."

"My aunt's been feeling very bad... I guess this does explain why everyone kept telling me how proud they were that I was going to host the party."

"It's too late for you to pull out. Maybe we can arrange for you to be kidnapped—" Artus shook his head. Rita must have infected him with her horrible ideas. "No, you have to see the feast through. But even if Mazarin were there, she wouldn't be able to help you, unless she's been a venerator in the past. There's a lot to study."

"So, uh, what do I do? Can I write it all on my hand?"

"So that fifty people can watch you squint at your palm? It's only slightly worse than going in blind." He drummed his fingers. "If you can get me into the room, I can help you."

"As an attendee?"

"No! Some other way. If there's some kind of secret panel I can signal you from, or if your family is one that continually brings in dishes throughout the feast, then I could slip you something in between. Mazarin can help you with that. In the meantime, get me a copy of your guest list so I can start studying."

"Thank you, Artus. Sorry, I've made a lot of work for you. You don't even work for me."

"Like I said, helping you helps the prince. Besides," Artus said, and the corner of his mouth flitted upwards, "we're friends, right?"

#

That was Artus's last smile for the rest of the week. The day before the festival, Frederic found Artus flanked by mountains of documents, a hand wound in his hair as he stared at one paper in particular on the desk.

"Wow, what are you working on? Starting a new business? You should do that after the holiday, or you'll be too tired to get through the whole party tomorrow."

Artus rubbed an eye. "Curses. Apologies for not telling you sooner, Your Highness, but I can't attend your feast."

"What? Are you going to the party of another one of our siblings, then?" Frederic frowned. "You're not going to His Majesty's, are you?"

"No, definitely not."

"Oh! Is there a book coming out tomorrow and you want to read it all day? Don't worry, I'll tell everyone you're too sick to come out!"

"I wouldn't do that. We're not children anymore," Artus said, though admittedly it sounded very tempting. "Actually, I need to stay near Lady Marguerite to help her with her honorings. She needed to fill in for her aunt as venerator last minute, and it turns out the Beaudennes have invited one hundred attendees."

"A hundred attendees! Wow! That feast is going to be over four hours!"

"I'll make it under three and a half, or so help me," Artus muttered. The excessive number of attendees only proved how insufferably arrogant that family was, Rita excepted. Even if Rita had been able to tell him everything about the attendees, choreographing the affair would have been a chore. Maybe her family figured that she was already considered a villainess, so if she made a mistake, it wouldn't be too disastrous.

But Artus wouldn't let Rita fail. She was Frederic's fiancée, after all.

"So Lady Marguerite's not coming to my party either, then?"

"No, sorry about that."

"Oh that's not your fault. She should be a saint, really, for filling in as a venerator last minute. Anyway, you should invite her to the night celebration at this palace afterward!"

"You're looking forward to seeing her?" Immediately after asking, Artus wondered why he'd asked.

"Of course!" Frederic beamed. "She's fun to talk to. We have a lot in common."

"Oh yes? Such as?"

"Uh... cheeses!"

Artus gave him a long look.

"Uh, anyway, I guess we'll have to see if either of you are still awake after a feast with an awful one hundred attendees."

Frederic looked like he was trying to imagine that in his head but kept giving up at thirty. Artus had prepared fifteen for him, and he'd complained about even that. "It could be difficult," Artus admitted.

"Are the Beaudennes going to let you go to their party as a guest? I assume you're not going as an attendee."

"The lady said she'd take care of it."

#

Artus didn't know what he'd been expecting when Rita, of all people, said she had an idea. Tonight he found himself staring at a display suit of armor in the Beaudennes banquet hall, its body opened up to face him.

Rita said, too cheerfully, "Time to get in!" She presented it with a flourish of her hands, as if that made it sound like a lovely invitation rather than a prison sentence.

"You... want me to stand in that suit for the whole feast?"

To her credit, Rita had tried to accommodate him. She had added padding in the suit where there was extra space. She also tied a small waterskin and a bag of nuts on either side of the helmet's inner cheek. He did not inquire about the empty waterskin inside the hip.

Rita put her hands together in apology. "Philippa and I really looked for an alternative. The food gets served in two batches, so not as often as you wanted. There's no secret vents anywhere. I thought we could maybe put you in a custom decorative column, but there wasn't time to commission one."

He removed the waterskins and nuts from the armor. This Artus Cressofort would sneak into the Beaudennes feast with dignity. "It's fine. I've suffered worse. Why are you looking at me like that?" Rita was tearing up. "Apologies, I just don't think a suit of armor crunching nuts in the middle of the feast is wise—"

"It's not that! You're just such a good guy, Artus. It's the only idea I came up with, but I honestly thought you'd just say no and leave."

"It'd be unseemly for me to break my promises. But try to get this over with quickly, for my sake." He stepped into the armor. A metal joint already poked his wrist, and he sighed heavily. "So how is this going to work?"

"Okay, I pretended like I still couldn't walk well with my ankle—"

"Actually you're not supposed to be walking—"

"—so they're going to have the attendees come to me. I'll be standing right here next to you in the armor, so you can whisper to me what to do. What do you think?"

Every inch of him screamed this was a bad idea. "There isn't an alternative, so we'll see how it goes."

Rita closed the armor cage on him.